A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed- you guys are grawsome :D

Also, I clearly borrowed some dialogue from the ep "Wrecked," and its dailies. I sort of stick to canon, but not really, so please don't hate me if it seems as if it'll be bad, because I swear it won't.




Spike had been awake for quite sometime, laying there silently beside her. It was nice; to finally have her wrapped in his arms, in a peaceful sleep, no less. So, this is what living a dream is like he thought to himself. He smiled as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to wake her. If she awoke, then, he feared, the dream would be over. It was strange, the feelings he was having. First there was the genuine happiness and contentment; the feeling of warmth. She did that to him in a matter of moments. But then there was the stone cold fear, sadness and grief that seemed to cover him in darkness. Spike was no fool; he knew how critical the first few seconds after she awoke would be. How she looked at him in that first instant of realizing where she was and with whom she had spent the night. Covered in his duster, he pulled her a little closer to him, and savored the possibly last intimate moments he would get to share with her…

*********

Buffy reluctantly opened her eyes, giving a little stretch as she did so. Feeling sore in all kinds of places she didn’t even think possible, she realized that she was not in fact at home in her comfy bed, or alone even for that matter. Then she remembered—Spike, the abandoned house, intimacy followed by tons upon tons of wanton sex. She sat up abruptly, clutching the coat to her nakedness as she looked at the ruins that surrounded her.

“When did the building fall down?” she asked uneasily. Well, well, Slayer. You’re never one to disappoint, are you? Spike, determined to not show his hurt and vulnerability, decided to put on his “smug” look before replying.

“Sometime between the first time and the…” he trailed off with a slight chuckle, silently gauging her reaction.

“Oh my god,” Buffy said to herself before getting up and looking for her clothes. Spike heaved a sigh and looked towards the ceiling. He lay there exposed and immobile, watching her as she frantically put on her clothes.

“Where is my shoe?” She spoke more to herself than him, trying for all that she was to not look at him and his Herculean… well, she was trying really hard not to look him and his unclothed body.

“What’s the hurry, love?” he asked casually, hands clasped underneath his head.

“The hurry is I left Dawn all night. And don’t call me ‘love.’” She put on her boot, pointedly not looking at him.

“You didn’t seem to take issue with it last night. Or with any of the little nasties we whispered,” he said, desperately trying to pull her from her little world of denial of the things that they’d done. The things that she herself took extreme pleasure in.

“Can we not? Talk?”

“I just don’t see why you have to run off so quick. Thought we could, uh…” he began as she walked past him.

“Not gonna happen, okay? This is the end of this freak show.” Not being able to hide his feelings any longer, he pulled her by the wrist and onto his lap. He couldn’t hide the look of hurt in his eyes.

“Don’t say that,” he ground out in a low, half pleading, half demanding voice. But she pushed on in her stubbornness, refusing to admit that last night meant anything to her. And I’m supposed to be the cold one he thought bitterly.

“What did you think was gonna happen? That we were gonna read the newspaper together? Play footsie under the rubble?” she asked rhetorically, trying to put him off as much as possible. But of course, Spike could never be that easily deterred.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he said, rubbing himself against her thigh.

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

“No, no. I have to go-"

“Come on. Stay. I’m stuck. Sun’s up.” And that was that. A simple, lame excuse and Buffy greedily fell back into his arms, waiting for him to ravish her. So that’s all this is to her? Lust? Spike didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that she absolutely didn’t care about the emotional aspects of their relationship. She has to care; she has to. He thought desperately to himself. Well, there’s one way to be sure…

“I knew it. I knew the only thing better than killing a Slayer would be fu-"

“What?! Is that what this was all about? Doing a Slayer?!” Buffy was furious, at him, and even more so at herself.

God, I should’ve known better. He doesn’t care. I’m so stupid. Buffy’s whole point of leaving was so she didn’t have to see this side of him; so she wouldn’t have to regret last night. Of course, she couldn’t get out soon enough. The damage was done. Furthermore, he had the audacity to laugh at her. Of course, what she didn’t know was that he was laughing in the joyous knowledge that it wasn’t just sex to her. To an extent, perhaps not as much as he did, however, she did care.

“I wouldn’t throw stones, pet. You seem to be quite the groupie yourself.”

“Shut up.” she said derisively, wiping at her lips in disgust. Why do I even want him?

“I’m just sayin’, vampires get you hot.”

“No. A vampire got me hot—one. But he’s gone. You’re just… You’re just convenient.” She wanted more than ever to royally piss him off. She did. He got up and walked towards her, unabashed about his nudity. She kept her eyes locked on his.

“Before you start voicing anymore of your theories, you might do well to remember, I can hurt you now,” he said in hurt and anger, knowing just as well as she did that he would never do such a thing.

“That’s right. Because I came back wrong. Well, you wanna really know what’s wrong with me? You.” Buffy felt horrible after saying that. The expression of undiluted pain clenched at her heart. She hadn’t meant it. He attempted to swallow the lump in his throat, but it just refused to go down.

“You mean that?” he asked in a near whisper, pleading with his eyes for her to deny it. Buffy couldn’t bring herself to contradict the hurtful statement, nor confirm it. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, so she turned her face from his. Spike gave her an imperceptible nod before turning away from her to retrieve his pants.

“So, what? You gonna continue treating me like dirt, until the next time you’ve got an itch you can’t scratch? Well, forget it! Last night changed things. I’m through being your whipping boy.” His voice sounded deadly as he angrily fastened his belt buckle.

“Nothing’s changed.” Spike squinted his eyes at her, listening to the rapid fluttering of her heart.

“Bollocks. It was a bloody revelation. And you can act as high, and mighty as you like. I know where you live now, Slayer. I’ve tasted it.” He walked back towards her and into her personal space. She stood her ground, looking up at him.

“Get a grip. Like you’re god’s gift.” He laughed dryly at her.

“Hardly. Wouldn’t be nearly as interesting, would it?” He leaned in to kiss her.

“Stop it.” She tried to step around him, but he wouldn’t move out of her way. He locked his wrists behind her neck, keeping her before him.

“No, let me go,” she said weakly, knowing that she could have moved him if she really wanted to.

“And what difference would that make? Huh, Buffy? Because you and I both know, no matter how much you don’t wanna admit it, that this is exactly where you wanna be. Here, with me. Almost as much as I want to be with you, but you're not quite there yet. But you will be.” Buffy looked away from him for a moment, soaking in everything he’d just said. She expelled a tired sigh, and tugging away from his grasp to get her jean jacket. He let her go.

“Look, just don’t tell anyone about this, alright? I have to go—and think.” She started to walk away.

“But love, I was so looking forward to screaming everything we did from the high heavens! Buffy!” he yelled after her in frustration. What did she think was gonna happen? He was gonna run and tell Dawnie bout their version of the “birds and the bees?” That he was gonna send Giles a post card, or brag to Harris bout it? Well, that last bit was quite tempting. But he could wait. He would wait. Buffy had to make the call whether or not to tell her friends. But he sincerely hoped for both their sakes that it was sooner rather than later…

*****

For the last two days, Buffy contemplated what she should do. She didn’t know what she was so afraid of. Him? It’s just Spike.. She’d known him for years, and he more or less was upfront about everything that he felt. Was it getting hurt? Spike would never hurt her. If anything, she’d end up hurting him. If she were completely and utterly honest with herself, she knew that what she was really afraid of was that the two of them together could be real.

Deep down, she’d always known that Riley had been “rebound” guy, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. She was more upset at losing the idea of him. He was dependable, solid, and initially uncomplicated. Well, that could only last so long. Spike was right—they did have passion, heat, and desire. But was there love too? From him, yes of course. She wasn’t completely sure about herself. All she knew was that she and Spike just fit, and somehow, there was something terrifying about that…

Maybe she was a glutton for pain. Maybe she really didn’t want to be happy. She felt a tightness around her heart at the thought. So, that was the crux of it; she didn’t think she deserved it- happiness. A slayer was supposed be all detached anyway, so…

“God, why do I hate myself so much?” she asked aloud to no one. “Why can’t I just be-" Before Buffy got the chance to figure out what she was thinking, she heard a loud noise upstairs. And just like that, there was no time to think about Spike, and relationships, happiness or love. Now was the time for her to perform her sacred duty- being the big sister.

Amy, before running to the bathroom to go vomit, told her what was going on with Willow— the dark magicks and how Willow was losing it. So in conclusion, Dawn was once again in danger. Of course, Dawn couldn’t possibly be blamed for the impromptu outing that was so bound for badness. Willow was out of control. I mean, hello? Hanging out with a guy named Rack? A guy with a totally lame name like that could so not be of the good. Unfortunately, she didn’t know who this Rack guy was exactly, or where he was for that matter. She needed help. Oh, who will I turn to? She thought sarcastically. The only person who she felt she could count on. The only person she truly trusted. Spike. He had been there time and time again, even when she didn’t want him to be. Well, now was not the time for her personal wants. She had to find Dawn and Willow- fast.

Spike’s crypt appeared to be empty, but she knew he was there somewhere. She could feel him. She never really noticed before, but yea, for the past couple of years, she had acquired some sort of special “spidey” Spike sense. It was never off. She found him sleeping in the lower level.

Spike usually wasn’t that heavy of a sleeper. After bellowing his name out right in front of him, soundly still he slept. He looked so peaceful with his sharp, angular features softened by sleep and the candle light. It was a shame to wake him. Almost. Spike awoke with a start as she tossed a particularly heavy pillar candle onto his torso. She would have awoken him personally, but she wasn’t sure how much control she would have had over herself, him being naked and sexy and all. The time called for business only.

SSSSSSSSS


Well, that was the Slayer for ya. Only going out for a jaunt to see him when she needed something. Never mind him and his feelings. Nope. He was just a soulless thing after all. Hell, if the Nibblet wasn’t in danger, he probably wouldn’t have even gone with her. Maybe. Well, he probably still would have gone, but he wouldn’t be nearly as determined. Yea. Not a lick.

So, in an incredibly awkward silence after he dressed in front of her with her back to him (like she hadn’t seen it all before), the two headed out to the Downtown area. It was almost as if it were a battle of wills- who could go the longest without breaking the silence. Buffy, sick of her own thoughts, cracked first.

“What’s taking so long? This Rack guy isn’t all that bad, is he?” she asked somewhat petulantly. She looked at him expectantly.

“No, it’s just… not only is his place cloaked, but it moves. No worries; we’ll get there.” He didn’t look at her once as he spoke. Buffy, feeling the awkward sensation dissipate, was overcome by a feeling of hurt. He was intentionally attempting to ignore her. Buffy stopped as she waited for him to turn around.

“Spike!” she yelled after him as he continued to walk. Either he hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared that she’d stopped. Buffy hoped it was the former, though that wasn’t exactly flattering either. She watched as he did that shoulder roll that he does as he heaved a huge sigh.

“What now, Slayer? Shouldn’t we be looking for the Bit?” He sounded weary, turning around to face her.

“Well, yes, but… why aren’t we talking? I mean, usually you love to talk, so…” She trailed off sheepishly from the burning look that he gave her.

“Seems to me that you’re the one who can’t seem to stop yappin’, luv,” he said in a low voice. Buffy heaved a sigh of weariness at that.

“Spike, I don’t want to argue.”

“Neither do I. But you’re the one that started it.”

“What?! I so did not!”

“Yea, you did! I was fine with the whole not talking. To you.” He mumbled the last part. She heard it anyway.

“Well I wasn’t! I hate—I hate feeling this way.” Her voice softened, as well as her demeanor when she disclosed how she felt.

“What way?” He stepped closer to her, looking at her intently as if searching for something.

“Feeling like… like I can’t talk to you. I want to talk to you. I like talking to you. But, it’s like I don’t know how anymore. I’m not sure what to say.” He gently cupped her cheek as he looked into her eyes.

“Just be honest with me, Buffy.” The way he said her name, it made her lose all train of thought. Rational, or otherwise. No one could say her name like that—so rich, and full with feeling. She loved the way he said her name.

“Spike, I—" And once again, they were interrupted—by Dawn’s screams of terror. They looked at each other for a split second before running off in the direction that they’d heard her. Aided by super speed and close proximity, they got there in less than a minute. Buffy worked on the demon while Spike tended to Dawn. Willow, crackling with magic and unnatural black eyes, burned the demon to a cinder. She was a sad, sorry sight. After Dawn smacked her in the face and walked away with Spike, Willow begged Buffy to help her. Buffy was so tempted to leave her there. She looked at Spike, wanting to know what he thought. He gave her a silent answer with the softening of his eyes. He turned and left with Dawn while Buffy stayed behind.

She felt sorry for Willow; she was her best friend. But the whole thing made her realize something: none of her friends could really be put on some type of pedestal of perfection. It wasn’t fair. People had to live their lives. They mess up, make mistakes… And your friends, her friends, should be there for her no matter what. Spike made her happy, and her friends would have to learn to support that. Other people’s opinions shouldn’t matter. She had been through so much, and there was only one person who could understand what she was going through.

After Willow was tucked away and Dawn safe in her room, Buffy left the house once again…